


And Having Sold Buyeth

by Quillori



Category: Merchant of Venice - Shakespeare
Genre: Venezia | Venice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-20
Updated: 2007-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1624310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillori/pseuds/Quillori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strong>Sectional epigraphs, in order:</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>William of Apulia, quoted in <em>A History of Venice</em>, John Julius Norwich<br/>... densely populated Venice, a land rich in wealth and in men, where the furthermost gulf of the Adriatic lies under the northern stars.</p>
<p>Daniel Price, <em>The Merchant: A Sermon Preached at Paul's Cross</em><br/>The learned knowe their colour to be diuers, their splendor is gratious, their lustre glorious, their nature and effect miraculous, their orbicular forme most perfit, & surely manie great wonders hath god made known unto men, in precious pearles.</p>
<p>Ecclesiastes 10:19, <em>Authorized Version</em></p>
<p>Daniel Price, <em>The Merchant: A Sermon Preached at Paul's Cross</em><br/>... and hauing sould buieth, and hauing bought exchangeth manie good pearles for one, naie all his good pearles for one goodlie pearle, a pearle of great price, and so you see that the kingdome of heauen is compared to a wise diligent, seeking, finding, buying, selling, exchanging marchant.</p>
<p>Ecclesiastes 10:19, <em>Authorized Version</em></p>
<p>Thomas Wilson, <em>A Discourse upon Usury</em><br/>To lende freely is a kynde of liberalitie and bountifulness, when a man departeth from his owne to help his neighbours want, wythout any hope of lucre or gayne at all; for he is benefited that borroweth and feeleth greate comforte in his great neede. Whereas lending for gayne is a chiefe branch of coevetousnes, and makes him, that before might have ben counted bountifull, to be now reconed a greedy gayner for him selfe, seeking his own welfare upon good assurance, without any care at all what may become of his neighbour, grawing him unmercyfully, to satisfie his own wretched and most greedy hunger, turnynge a most bewtifull vertue into a most filthy abhominable vyce.</p>
<p>Pietro Aretino, <em>Sonetti Lussuriosi</em><br/>Questo cazzo voglio io, non un tesoro.<br/>Quest'e colui che puo far felice,<br/>quest'e un cazzo proprio da imperatrice,<br/>questa gemma val pioe ch'un pozzo d'oro.<br/>   Adapted from Lynne Lawner's translation:<br/>     I want this cock, not a treasure,<br/>     This is what can make one happy.<br/>     This cock would suit an empress.<br/>     This jewel's worth more than a gold-mine.</p>
<p>Edwin Sandys, <em>Sermon Sixteen: A Sermon Preached at a Marriage in Strausborough</em><br/>Such then as marry not in the fear of God, making a religious and a godly choice, having the full consent of their parents or tutors; doubtless God is no author of their marriage: it is not he that coupleth and joineth them together: their estate is base, and not honourable, in his sight.</p></blockquote>





	And Having Sold Buyeth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morganmuffle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganmuffle/gifts).



  
**a land rich in wealth and in men**   
_and surely manie great wonders hath god made known unto men, in precious pearles_   


That afternoon the rain slanted down steadily, making all of Venice grey, excepting only the canals themselves, the dark waterways turned to streets of beaten silver as if by alchemy, an attractive effect to which Antonio was oblivious as he hurried down the steps of the Rialto in the direction of St Marks. The rain made the stone treacherous underfoot and he was glad to get to the brick paving of the Merceria, although despite the weather the press of people was almost enough to make a fall unlikely. To a more attentive eye, the street might have been charming even in the rain, with its jumble of perfumers, apothecaries, stationers, artificers and mercers; even with the more costly silks and damasks taken in from the first floor windows from which they generally hung, there was more than enough of interest in the mass of goods for sale, the twittering and songs of the caged birds and the bustle of purchasers, local and foreign, old and young, men and women, attendant servants and the occasional little slave boy. For Antonio, however, all these constituted so many obstacles between himself and the colleagues he was due to meet in the piazza, who were themselves by way of being a necessary interlude before he could return home to prepare himself for the evening.

  
**a feast is made for laughter, and wine maketh merry**   
_naie all his good pearles for one goodlie pearle, a pearle of great price_   


The party at which Antonio was due that evening was being held in rooms furnished to the latest taste, with slippery silk hangings and shiny stamped leather. Filled with people and noisy laughter, it seemed a bright, warm haven from the wet and dreary day outside. Feeling his spirits lift a little, he immersed himself in the welcoming crowd. Over there was Gratiano, telling some joke that had his listeners applauding his wit, and so doubtless enjoying himself, and over there was the tedious Girolamo in deep conversion with the equally dull Nicolo; further on towards the next room - here Antonio had to negotiate around a juggler and a little crowd making bets how many eggs he could keep in the air at once - towards the next room, but no, that was just young Paolo. On into the next room then, and almost blocking the doorway a serious group speculating on how much gold might be to be had from Mexico, and then another discussing the latest wreck with all the sharp pleasure of those who have lost no money themselves. Then the crowd parted for a moment and there, absorbed in the antics of another juggler, this one with oranges, - but then the gap closed again and the flow of people through the door brought him up against a group of his friends, all quite unnecessarily keen to hear his views on the Doge's fever.

"I'm not a physician. How should I know if he'll recover?"

"I hear fortune may be set to smile on Marino Grimani."

"Certainly Fortune has already smiled extensively at his coffers."

"Well yes, so he should at least put on a better show than Cicogna did. I believe the people dream he'll come to power on a flood of gold."

"That's less flashy than having the ducal cap fall at your feet. If Fate is going to mark a man out for greatness, I think it's more dignified to do it the old fashioned way, with gobs of money, rather than strewing caps and consecrated hosts about the place. Fortune is meant to be a goddess, not a monkey."

"Thank you for that edifying image, Salerio. A fever has at any rate the merit of speed: either you recover or that's it for you. I never felt the dignity of the Republic was enhanced by a doge who needed to be propped up. I grant old da Ponte looked quite proper, and sleeping through receptions may show wisdom of a kind, but as Antonio ... where is Antonio?"

But no sooner had Antonio slipped away from the political fortunes of Venice than he was caught in the fortunes of France, for more of his friends (and how did he come to have such an unreasonable number of friends?) were as eager to discuss whether the Pope was finally set to absolve Henry of Navarre and, no doubt with gritted teeth, make a show of welcoming him to the true faith. Antonio found himself no more gripped by Henry's ability to cover political strength with a gauzy robe of new-found piety than he had been by the Doge's health, but nonetheless he was compelled to discuss it for some time.

Getting free at last, he looked around at something of a loss. The juggler with the oranges had gained a larger following, but Bassanio was no longer among them, and indeed was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing to do but drift around, hoping to find him before he foundered on the reef of yet more importunate friends. Everywhere there were knots of fashionable young men, but no sign of the one fashionable young man he wanted. Eventually he heard a mention of the Marquis of Montferrat, but it was only someone re-hashing stale gossip.

Then he heard his name called and turned around to see Bassanio. The sounds of the party fell away, drowned by the surge and retreat of blood drumming in his ears. Bassanio looked perfect, the epitome of graceful young men, severely but richly dressed in black, the silk more obviously costly in its plainness and its contrast to the extravagant lace ruff at his throat. And he himself, matching his clothes, hair and eyes dark, complexion as pure and white as a woman's, no, purer because here there was no artifice involved. He looked ... untouchable, as separate from the eddying partygoers as a vision of a saint in a crowded street, a thing as complete and unsullied in himself as if Antonio had found a pearl lying amid the litter of the Rialto. Antonio couldn't help smiling a little at the sudden incongruous thought of picking up and keeping Bassanio as easily as he could an unattended pearl in the street.

"Antonio, are you listening? Have you met my friend Alfonso?"

"Yes, I think we've met. You're a friend of the Marquis of Montferrat, I believe?"

Dragged back to reality, Antonio spared a glance at the man next to Bassanio, who did at least serve the function of a contrasting setting for Bassanio's charms, being too extravagantly dressed in the height of expensive fashionable taste, too coarsely forward in his manner and generally too vulgar in all the ways currently popular. Then he mentally dismissed him and made polite, automatic small talk while he admired the faint flush wine had brought to Bassanio's cheeks and the hint, no more than that, of barely arrested restlessness, as though he had other, greater, concerns from which no party could quite distract him.

"... suppose you must have to be very diligent and hard-working to seek out the best deals. I wouldn't have any idea myself how to go about judging what a cargo was worth or what market it should be shipped to."

It was no surprise that Alfonso had a snide tone and a superior attitude to trade; he was, as Antonio reminded himself, no Venetian after all.  
"Everyone admires Antonio's ability. Why don't we go and find some more wine: really it's far too hot in here."  
Still, it was graceful of Bassanio to come to his defense, even if it wasn't necessary and, even better, as soon as they started to move they managed to lose Alfonso to a group of his friends; unfortunately yet more of Antonio's own unwanted friends surrounded them a moment later; but at least they made Bassanio laugh, so their presence was welcome after all.  
 

  
**but money answereth all things**   
_to lende freely is a kynde of liberalitie and bountifulness [...] wythout any hope of lucre or gayne at all_   


Antonio had prevailed on Bassanio to accept a lift and they were now together in a gondola, going home the long way round. Outside was nothing but the soft smack of water against the gondola and the faint splash of the oar. It was easy to imagine nothing else existed at all except this intimate little cabin, an anonymous box containing a little world of quiet and comfort. The lamplight flickered with the steady rocking of the boat, now gleaming on the rich blackness of Bassanio's costume, now casting forbidding shadows, now glinting again on the clasp of his gown.

Bassanio sighed and closed his eyes, stretching out as much as he could.

"It's very peaceful to be cut off from everything like this, isn't it? As though we were untouchable ... We could just sail on like this forever and never come back to land."

Antonio's gaze lingered over Bassanio's immaculately elegant dress, now a little disheveled. "But wouldn't you miss parties and excitement and other people?"

"No, no. It's fun at the time, but sometimes I think ... just to get clear of everything, have somewhere set apart from demands and worry and, oh, everything. Just like this."

"A private paradise. You're right, that's exactly what it feels like out here at night. Our own kingdom, just the length and width of a gondola and perfectly sufficient to our needs. When you think of it, there are so many things men want, power, and position, and gold, and jewels, and servants and so on: there must be any number of men out there caught up struggling for all those things, while we have everything important right here with us."  
Bassanio's mouth twitched up in a sleepy, amused smile. "Perhaps in the end we might want food?"

"Ah, but I treasure your words more than my food, and your affection is better to me than wine, so you can see that nothing is wanting."

The smile was less sleepy now and more amused. "You always look so proper and respectable, Antonio, but you can turn anything to your own use, even scripture."

"Of course I intend to return the favour. I am completely available for your use. Since there are only the two of us in this little kingdom of ours, we will have to be completely sufficient for each other."

Bassanio was still for a moment, then he opened his eyes and sat firmly up.

"Or more prosaically, I may remember I got some oranges at the party, so we needn't turn from earthly food to more spiritual sustenance just yet."  
He produced an orange and began to peel it with careful attention, dropping little pieces of peel on the floor of the gondola and adding the sharp note of citrus to the lamp smoke and the ever present smell of the canals. After a while, the silence was broken by the sound of distant music and laughter carrying faintly but clearly over the water.

"Not so cut off after all", he said sadly.

"No, but it was a nice thought."

"Reality is always so difficult. People always want things from you, and everything turns out to be so expensive, one way or another. Sometimes it's fine, and I'm enjoying myself, and then I stop and think and I don't know which way to turn, and then it's like I'm drowning: even when I get a few mouthfuls of air, I know I'll be dragged back down again."

"You deserve to enjoy yourself. And I meant what I said, I didn't just mean here, tonight: if there's anything I can do for you, if there's anything that would please you, it's yours. You know that. There's no point in money that isn't put to some use, it just sits there, barren. If my money can be of service to you, I want you to have it. It would please me to watch you spend it."

"Antonio, I already worry enough about repaying people."

"I don't want you to repay me."

"So you want me in your debt, do you? ... I'm sorry, that was a terrible thing to say. Here, have the rest of my orange and forget I said it. Let's pretend that you gave me sensible advice about keeping more sober and restrained company and I said I'd take it."

"And are we also pretending that you're really going to?"

"Now you're not being nice either. ... I do always mean to be sensible, I just get caught up in things. I always think I'll find something satisfying and worth having, but somehow the shine wears off after a while and -"

"You don't have to justify yourself to me."

"Oh. In that case do you think it's time for another embarrassed silence? I'm afraid I don't have any oranges left."

"Surely we must be almost there. Let me have a look."

Antonio leant out of the cabin. This early in spring, the air was still chilly on his face but at least it wasn't raining. The gondola shot under another bridge and on out of the narrow canal it had been navigating into a much broader waterway. Even though it must be approaching dawn, the moon was still up in the sky, full and round and white, and its reflection, another moon, equally full and white, seemed to shine out of the dark water. Here and there the anonymous silhouettes of other gondolas passed by in near silence and the whole scene had something of an air of unearthly calm. Then the gondolier turned the little boat against the tide and it rocked dangerously, throwing Antonio backwards into Bassanio's lap and the same lunar pull that called up the tide caught the blood in his veins. He could feel it tugging at him even as he apologized and scrambled back in inelegant haste to his side, making the boat rock further. But the perturbation seemed to have relaxed Bassanio again, and he stretched back out and sighed happily, without any hint of awkwardness.

"I love it when it rocks like this. It's even better on a boat out in the lagoon if there's a storm - thunder and lightning and howling wind and never quite sure if you'll make it back to shore."

"I think you must be a little touched by the moon. Drowning isn't my idea of a pleasant end to an evening."

"We're hardly at risk tonight. Look, it's settled down already. Anyway, it isn't the drowning that's fun, it's the triumphantly not drowning."

"It would be one thing if you knew in advance you wouldn't drown, but I don't have that much faith in my fate."

"I think I do. In the end, I always think I'll somehow make it through."

"I imagine fate is more inclined to indulge you than me. I can just see you in the role of fortune's darling."

"An indulged toy, shortly to be discarded? Yes, I can see that too. Perhaps I really should take the advice you didn't give and stick to more respectable company: at least with you I can be fashionable without being concomitantly bankrupt."

"Good Bassanio, I cannot in any circumstance complain if I get to see you, even if you are not perhaps as entirely enthusiastic at the prospect as I might wish: I suppose I must just accept that my only virtue lies in not thinking the pleasure of your company is something for which you yourself should be paying."

"I really hope you don't mean by that you think you should be paying? I may be improvident, but I haven't sunk that far."

"You know that isn't what I meant. I wish you would put away all thought of buying and selling: your nature is far too noble for trade. How can someone so innately good fail to understand generosity in others? I put my money at your disposal not to buy you but your happiness. If I am as pleased with your pleasure as I would be with my own it would be most ungenerous of you to deny me."

"And I would, of course, hate to seem ungenerous. Never have I heard of a man making such determined efforts to be taken advantage of. Very well. I resign myself to your will. My debts are yours at your pleasure and I will undertake not to trim my ways ungenerously but rather to brave any cost. Is that innately noble enough for your liking?"

"Sweet Bassanio, I pray you speak in truth as well as jest. There truly is nothing you could say I would hear with greater pleasure."

"I can only hope this isn't how you carry out your daily affairs. I shudder to think what deals you may be making if these are the terms you set with me. If this is to become the common way of business there will be hardly a man left can call his soul his own."  
 

  
**quest'e colui che puo far felice**   
_their estate is base, and not honourable in his sight_   


Returning from Bassanio's, it was already dawn when Antonio reached the Rialto market, the soft dark silence of the night giving way in the pink light to the noise and bustle of the traders. Already the edge of the waterway was crammed with heavily laden gondolas and the edge of the land was fringed with market men swinging box after box ashore. Here and there among the purposeful industry of the traders and the first customers already out inspecting the day's catch were other revellers on their way home, looking incongruous now with their rich finery set against the simple practicality of the traders.

Borne on an unusual tide of contentment, Antonio wandered round the market, looking with fresh eyes at the things of the real world. This, he thought, was the true meaning of wealth, not luxuries or ornament but the natural abundance of the earth and sea. Here were crates of green eels, writhing and knotting slimily round each other; long, sharp shelled, briny molluscs; octopuses forming a countless mass of grasping tentacles and bulging white bodies; huge rosy mullets and heaped piles of little silver sardines; the bloody flesh of tuna fish tranched open and exposed; fish sliced and filleted; fish still alive and gasping, the lilac and pink shimmer of their scales slowly fading; the air growing heavy with the smell of seaweed and salt and fish guts.

Through past the fish market were the vegetables, piles everywhere of green herbs: bitter dandelion and sorrel, the very first of the wild garlic, huge bundles of peppery rocket and soft, astringent little rosettes of thistle; the thick leaves and heavy purple stems of wild sea kale and the little bundles of delicate, crisp young shoots, their creamy, curled leaves barely tinted with a hint of green or purple; the purplish green folds and thick, fleshy stems of artichokes; branching stems of sprouting broccoli, their masses of tight little flowers like so many piles of white or purple gemstones; and here and there the air freshened by sudden insistent bursts of dried nepitella or the softer, headier smell of new fresh mint.  
It was dawn and spring and everything spoke of energy and new hope. All around him Venetians examined and prodded the goods, arguing good-naturedly about quality and price. Everything, the world of man, the world of trades and barters and struggle for position, and the miraculous, fertile plenty of the natural world seemed for once in balance, made for each and fitting together benignantly. He didn't know where it came from, but it was impossible to walk through the crowded streets and not be buoyed up by a sense of happy optimism.

**Author's Note:**

> **Sectional epigraphs, in order:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> William of Apulia, quoted in _A History of Venice_ , John Julius Norwich  
> ... densely populated Venice, a land rich in wealth and in men, where the furthermost gulf of the Adriatic lies under the northern stars.
> 
> Daniel Price, _The Merchant: A Sermon Preached at Paul's Cross_  
>  The learned knowe their colour to be diuers, their splendor is gratious, their lustre glorious, their nature and effect miraculous, their orbicular forme most perfit, & surely manie great wonders hath god made known unto men, in precious pearles.
> 
> Ecclesiastes 10:19, _Authorized Version_
> 
> Daniel Price, _The Merchant: A Sermon Preached at Paul's Cross_  
> ... and hauing sould buieth, and hauing bought exchangeth manie good pearles for one, naie all his good pearles for one goodlie pearle, a pearle of great price, and so you see that the kingdome of heauen is compared to a wise diligent, seeking, finding, buying, selling, exchanging marchant.
> 
> Ecclesiastes 10:19, _Authorized Version_
> 
> Thomas Wilson, _A Discourse upon Usury_  
>  To lende freely is a kynde of liberalitie and bountifulness, when a man departeth from his owne to help his neighbours want, wythout any hope of lucre or gayne at all; for he is benefited that borroweth and feeleth greate comforte in his great neede. Whereas lending for gayne is a chiefe branch of coevetousnes, and makes him, that before might have ben counted bountifull, to be now reconed a greedy gayner for him selfe, seeking his own welfare upon good assurance, without any care at all what may become of his neighbour, grawing him unmercyfully, to satisfie his own wretched and most greedy hunger, turnynge a most bewtifull vertue into a most filthy abhominable vyce.
> 
> Pietro Aretino, _Sonetti Lussuriosi_  
>  Questo cazzo voglio io, non un tesoro.  
> Quest'e colui che puo far felice,  
> quest'e un cazzo proprio da imperatrice,  
> questa gemma val pioe ch'un pozzo d'oro.  
>    Adapted from Lynne Lawner's translation:  
>      I want this cock, not a treasure,  
>      This is what can make one happy.  
>      This cock would suit an empress.  
>      This jewel's worth more than a gold-mine.
> 
> Edwin Sandys, _Sermon Sixteen: A Sermon Preached at a Marriage in Strausborough_  
>  Such then as marry not in the fear of God, making a religious and a godly choice, having the full consent of their parents or tutors; doubtless God is no author of their marriage: it is not he that coupleth and joineth them together: their estate is base, and not honourable, in his sight.


End file.
